


Jinxed

by ActualWritesThings



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Jinx gets herself into dangerous situations with regularity, Multi, She's very punch-y for a sniper, neither ghost or leya are mine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-01-21 17:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12462453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualWritesThings/pseuds/ActualWritesThings
Summary: The 6EB and the 382nd are having a joint op, good, great, except for the part where Jinx managed to get herself gutshot like a fuckingdi’kut.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct continuation of Kaz's fic, found [here](http://variative.tumblr.com/post/165736421403/apply-pressure-to-the-wound-dont-let-go-for)
> 
> Ghost and Leya also both belong to Kaz.

The 6EB and the 382nd are having a joint op, good, great, except for the part where Jinx managed to get herself gutshot like a fucking _di’kut._ Even cadets can generally manage the whole ‘don’t get shot’ thing, but apparently she can’t.

Fucking _hells_ it hurts, especially now that Leya’s had to run back to her men and Ghost off doing- whatever it an ARC does. So now it’s just Jinx, the trauma pad in her hand, and the fact that she’s fairly certain she’s touching her own kriffing intestines. She really hopes she doesn’t die from this; it’d just be fucking _embarrassing._

Jinx presses the trauma pad harder against the wound, trying to ignore the way it makes bright spots swim in front of her eyes. The back of her head thuds against the crumbling brickwork of the wall that’s currently her only cover as she does and she forces herself not to pass out. It’s not that bad, the pain’s manageable. She repeats that to herself until she can almost believe it, keeping her eyes open even as she wants to squeeze them shut. Her breath comes in heavy pants through gritted teeth, loud in the silence of her bucket despite her best efforts as she lifts up the edge of pad to reposition it. It’s soaked red with blood already and that’s probably a very bad sign.

It’s not coming in pulses though, and right now she’ll take whatever good news she can get. Especially as she becomes aware of the sound of mechanical footsteps, getting closer and closer to her. Fucking _hells,_ what gods did she piss off that she’s going to bleed to death _and_ get shot by clankers?

Ok, she can deal with this, she can do this, just has to move. Fuck.

She presses the trauma pad more firmly to the wound, takes a deep breath, and pries her shebs up. Her legs nearly give out from underneath her the moment she tries to put weight on them, but she can’t collapse, not now. There’s another wall, just a few meters away, but it feels so much further than that. Somehow, she makes it to the wall in a dead run, almost slamming her shoulder into it and sliding back down onto her knees as she gasps for air. There’s a blaster on the scorched floor next to her, and she’s grabbing it without even thinking about it. Her breath hisses out between her teeth as she forces herself to turn over, to press her back against the wall and sink back down. She readjusts the trauma pad, pointedly ignoring how it squelches with blood as she does.

She checks the ammo levels. Still good and there’s even a few clips on the floor. Her back’s pressed against the wall, her eyes fixed on where the clanker noise is coming from. A blaster in one hand, the other holding in her intestines. As far as last stands go, Jinx supposes this isn’t too bad of one. Then the droids march into view and the time for thinking’s over.

Just aim and fire, one after another. It’s like training- just hit the targets. Reloading’s trickier, and she has to release the trauma pad, use blood slicked fingers and try to ignore the blood seeping down the inside of her blacks. But she’s down to her last clip now anyways, so it’s not going to be a problem for much longer. The droids just keep coming but she refuses to focus on that. Just breathe, aim, and fire.

Until suddenly, they’re gone. There’s no more advancing on her, and even as she holds her breath, she can’t hear any. Wait, no, there’s footsteps and she raises the blaster back up. Only to lower it again as the familiar plastoid of someone, and _gods_ she hopes it’s actually one of them and not some new droid or something, comes around the corner and rushes for her. Ok, it’s Leya or Leya’s armor and that’s the same thing right?

The fighting must be over, Leya, and it is definitely her, is stripping off her helmet and she wouldn’t do that -not even for Jinx- if there was a fight. Fingers fumble at Jinx’s neck, her own helmet comes off and she blinks as the scent of ozone and blood hits her. She’d been aware of the scent, but it’s a lot more noticeable without the filters in her helmet.

“Oh good, you’re back,” Jinx mumbles, looking up at Leya before finally closing her eyes. She’s safe now, she can rest. And passing out’s a hell of a lot easier than trying to stay awake right now, so she does.

⁂

Jinx slowly regains consciousness, her entire body feeling distant and fuzzy. Her head’s not much better, her thoughts slow and half-formed. Wherever she is, it’s warm and comfortable though, so she guesses that’s a good thing.

There’s a hand on hers, the fingers callused and interlaced with her own and she can’t help but squeeze it back. She cracks open her eyes and manages a small smile. Ghost’s sitting in chair next to her, his chin resting on his chest and his hair hanging down in front of his face. And when the door opens and Leya comes in, she smiles wider. They’re all alive, and that’s all she can really ask for. It’ll be enough for now.


	2. Chapter 2

Leya’s eyes widen as soon as she sees Jinx is awake, brushing past Ghost, nudging him as she drops into the chair next to Ghost’s. Ghost snaps awake, but immediately loses the tension making his spine stiff as he sees Jinx looking back at him. “You’re awake,” he croaks and she nods once she makes sense of the words. It takes a while, long enough that Ghost’s leaning tiredly against Leya. He looks exhausted and Jinx frowns at that.

The bed’s small, barely enough room for a single trooper, but that doesn’t keep her from scooting over and grabbing his sleeve, tugging him onto the bed. “Cyare,” she says, or tries to at least. The word’s mumbled, but he seems to understand, gingerly climbing onto the bed, curling up around her.

“I was so worried about you,” and she doesn’t even need to look at his face to know there’s tears running down it. She’s uncoordinated, made awkward with the drugs running through her veins, but she still reaches forward and clumsily runs her fingers through his hair. Leya’s still sitting down in the chair, but she’s placed a hand on Ghost’s shoulder and Jinx smiles at her too.

“‘m fine,” Jinx manages, snuggling against Ghost’s body and the warmth radiating from it. “Love you.” She feels more than sees Ghost shake, and she snuggles into him further. “It’s ok,” she adds, because it is, it really is. She wants to add more, reassure him further, but she’s so warm and _safe_ that she can’t help but fall asleep in his arms.

⁂

The next time Jinx wakes, her head feels much clearer. There’s a low level ache in her abdomen, throbbing in time with her heartbeat, but it’s not nearly as bad as receiving the wound itself so she pushes it to the side. She is colder though, and guesses that means that both Ghost and Leya had to leave or the med-droid kicked them out or something. There’s _someone_ in the room though; she can hear the faints sounds of someone breathing, the non-silent silence of someone else being with her. So she opens her eyes and forces herself into an upright position.

Only to freeze as she looks at a kriffing _Jedi._ Her Jedi. The Jedi that commands her entire karking legion, looking at her with his undivided attention. Oh _gods._

“Sir!” Fear makes the word tight and snapped, but Sha-Loy’s never been accepting of anything other than perfection.

“At ease,” the words are said casually and that does nothing for the subtle feeling of something being wrong. Nor does the way he’s looking at her; his eyes blank and reminding her of the kaminiise. He’s appraising her, and she doesn’t want to know what will happen to her if he finds her wanting.

“3151. So you’re the one who made the... _impressive_ last stand.” It’s not a question, not really, but Jinx finds herself nodding nonetheless. “Do you know how many you managed to hold off?” This one is a question, but it’s one Jinx doesn’t know the answer to.

“No sir,” she says, because it’s all a blur of blaster bolts and fear.

“Almost a hundred,” he says and Jinx’s stomach drops. That can’t be right, there can’t have been that many, can there? “And each one of them perfectly head-shot.” There’s almost something like _praise_ in Sha-Loy’s voice, and Jinx isn’t sure what to do with that. She’s never known the nikto to be anything other than cold and impersonal with the clones under his command. _Never._

“As such, I’m requesting to have you undergo ARC training. Provided, of course, that you want to.” It’s not a request and Jinx isn’t foolish enough to think it is. She’s going to be an ARC then.

“Yes sir,” because she couldn’t say no to him even if she wanted to. And she doesn’t know if she wants to.

“Good. As soon as you’re discharged from medbay, report to me.” He gets up and leaves without another word. Jinx sags back down against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

She’s going to be an ARC.

Gods.


End file.
